


The Cats Are Away

by TheEmpressAR



Category: Laurel and Hardy (Movies)
Genre: Affection, Caring, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Violence, Fluff and Humor, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slapstick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26210233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEmpressAR/pseuds/TheEmpressAR
Summary: Laurel and Hardy just want to be together in shared affection with one another, but their wives are having none of it.  They vow to leave them if they don't leave each other.  Maybe some time to think is what they both need.
Relationships: Oliver Hardy/Stan Laurel
Kudos: 1





	The Cats Are Away

**Author's Note:**

> Well this is kind of a bizarre rabbit hole to go down...but we're going to give it a shot!! Let me know if I've stayed in pretty good character and if you want MORE!!

The Cats Are Away

“Oh, YEAH?!!” 

“Yeah!” 

“You seem pretty confident for someone who’s about to kiss the pavement.” 

“What do you mean...kiss the pavement?” 

“I mean you...puckering up and letting the rubber meet your kisser.” 

“Now...Honey Bunny...I told you, you know I always see Stanley on Friday nights for poker.”

“You USED to.” 

“I used to what?” 

“See Stanley on Friday nights.” 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Let me get it through that thick skull of yours...Oliver Hardy. I am YOUR wife. You married ME not Stan Laurel...you spend Friday nights with me!”

Georgia Hardy picked up the flower vase sitting on the table in the foyer and promptly smashed it over Oliver Hardy’s head. Ollie cried out and both hands went up to touch the tender spot there where the flowers he had gotten for his wife earlier were now scattered all over the floor with the bits of vase shattered around it. He painfully looked off into the distance and sighed looking back at his wife who nodded her head firmly. That was the end of the discussion. 

Ollie was in between a rock and a hard place. He knew that Stan was on his way over already and that he had told his Missus that he was going to go out and that was final and he was the man and he wore the pants in his family. How was it going to look to Stan if he came over and found Ollie bowing down to his wife and washing dishes of all things? He would refuse. He was not about to let being married get in the way of time with his best friend. 

He thought trying to get more bees with honey was the right idea and his wife sure did have a stinger. He smiled and laughed a little, following her into the sitting room. He thought he’d have another go. 

“Hmm Hmm Hmm...Now Pudding...it will just be for a couple of hours. I promise...you won’t even know I’ve been gone. Don’t you want to see your love muffin happy??” 

Oliver twiddled his tie at her giving her his most bashful, shy grin. He was really laying it on thick. Georgia looked at him and put her hands on her hips. It was her “classic” pose when dealing with the lunk-head of a husband she had the unfortunate honor of being tied to. She never should have answered that lonely hearts advertisement. It was the worst decision she had ever made...and now she was stuck with…this.

“ _Your_ ‘love muffin’ will be EXTRA happy if you stayed home and did a little work around here from time to time.”

Ollie frowned at the word ‘work’...he looked like it was his least favorite word in the dictionary. He scuffed his foot on the floor and sulked. 

“I work all day and all night so that you can go out with that bozo...and it’s not just Friday...you’re out every night with that skinny little twerp. What’s he got that I ain’t got?”

Ollie did a double take. He had to think about it actually. That made Georgia angrier. He shouldn’t have had to think even a second about the only person who should be the most important person in his life. His loving wife. She frowned, setting her lip hard and began marching up the stairs. Oliver knew exactly what this meant. She had threatened and done this several times before. 

“Oh no you don’t…” He said going after her. 

She stomped her way up the stairs and pulled out the worn suitcase from under the bed. It should have stayed packed from the last time she wanted to get gone and meant it. She flung it open and went to her dresser drawers. Ollie stood in the doorway. 

“This again?”

“Yeah...this again.” 

“Don’t you know that I love you?” He said beseechingly. 

“You sure got a funny way of showing it.” She threw whatever she could find in the drawers not really caring what went in. 

“Now listen, Sugar dumpling...you don’t really want to leave. I’ll tell Stanley we won’t go out next Friday...ok? Just let me go out with him tonight and it will be my last time...cross my heart and hope...to...die.” Ollie said, punctuating his last words. He raised three fingers for Scout’s honor. 

“If you go out tonight...you won’t have to hope!” Georgia said grabbing up her suitcase and shoving past Ollie marched out of the room. She marched down the stairs and put her bag by the door. 

“You have one chance, Oliver Hardy…” She said pointing a finger at his chest. She was short but she was feisty. “You tell him tonight...you’re staying home with me!” 

Ollie hung his head low. He was miserable. He knew he’d be the laughing stock for sure. He knew that Stan wouldn’t let him live it down that his wife wore the pants in the family. He also didn’t want to lose his wife. He went over to the couch and sat down hard. He heard a spring bust somewhere inside the couch. He groaned and rolled his eyes. He knew he’d get into trouble for THAT too. 

Georgia took her place on the opposite loveseat and picked up her knitting. She furiously worked at her project which was a “hope set” of baby booties. She shot sideways glances at Ollie who sat picking at an invisible thread on the arm of the couch. He stopped short when she cleared her throat. He dusted his hands and waived at her and then rested his chin on his hand propped up by his elbow. It was going to be a long night. 

\--------

Stan Laurel pulled up alongside the Hardy residence in his old Model T Ford. It came to a loud and crunching halt at the curb and backfired when he shut off the engine. A big cloud of black smoke came billowing from the tailpipe. Somewhere a cat shrieked at the noise. His placid expression indicated he knew his car was a piece of junk but there was nothing he could do about it. He shrugged and raised his hands. He opened the car door and nearly fell out onto the sidewalk...again. He seemed to do that every time. He always forgot there was a raised step in front of the path to The Hardy’s home. He picked himself up and dusted off at the knees. His bowler hat had fallen to the ground and he bent over to retrieve it. He stuck it back on his head and started walking toward the front door. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” A harsh voice came from the car. Stan paused mid step and hunched his shoulders. He sighed in abjection and turned around slowly. 

“Get over here and help me out of the car!!” The voice barked at him. 

“Yes, Dear…” He replied softly. 

He shuffled slowly to the opposite side of the car to the door facing the street. Out of nowhere a car sped by almost running him over where he stood. He quickly hopped out of its path, grabbing hold of the door for dear life. He was nearly frightened out of his skin. 

“C’mon...quit your foolin’ and get me outta here!” The unsympathetic voice was the only thing that greeted Stan as he opened her side of the car and stuck out his hand, obediently. A large, meaty paw clasped his delicate hand and squeezed it until he squeaked. 

“Well don’t just stand there...PULL!” 

Stanley grabbed her forearm with both hands and tugged. It was like trying to move a boulder. He nearly fell into the car on the recoil when she pulled back. He knocked his head on the top of the car and got a little dizzy. The car rocked but he was able to manage to maintain his hold. He turned her loose, spit on both hands and grabbed her arm again. He frowned and pulled with all his might. He literally heard the sound of a ‘pop’ as his wife was freed from the car and had no time to react as she fell on top of him. He gasped for air and started whimpering. This was not how he wanted to die. 

Sally Laurel laid out flat on her husband. This was more action than she had received in years from him but couldn’t really enjoy it due to the humiliation she was now facing. Her flowered dress had come up over her ample derriere, showing off her slip and bloomers. She tried to push herself up off of him, but floundered. Stan wasn’t making things easier. He was crying and moaning and whimpering something fierce as if she were crushing him. He was kicking up a lot of dust. 

“Hold STILL, Stanley!” She cried, trying again to push up but only succeeded in rolling off of him and onto her back in the middle of the road. They both laid there for a few moments, stunned. She tried sitting up but after a few grunts she fell back onto her back and gave up. 

Stan quieted down and lay there looking up at the night sky. He didn’t want any of this. He had snuck out of his house (or so he thought) and had almost made it to the car when he saw his wife already there, sitting in it. He tried to turn around and sneak the other way...thinking he’d catch a bus or a taxi to Ollie’s and then they could go and have some fun. Clearly...his plans had other ideas. 

Sally had berated him soundly all the way to Ollie’s house. He learned once again what a “no-good, lousy husband” he was and how she should have never married him and that he kept loser friends and loser company and how come he’d never even introduced her to Oliver Hardy or his wife...and they had been married for over ten years. 

Stan had learned over the course of ten years how to tune out his wife and not pay attention to her when she got going. He’d often wanted to tell her to shut up and get off of his back. But he dare not say that to her face. His only escape was Ollie. His only chance and opportunity to be happy was when he was with his best friend. Sure he had mentioned Ollie to Sally on many occasions but he thought it was best that the two never should meet. His life insurance wasn’t up-to-date...and he couldn’t afford the risk. 

Tonight it seemed there was no way of getting around it or getting out of it. He was stuck. Sally seemed determined to finally cross the last line of making his life a living hell. He looked up at the stars and thought about all of the good times he and Ollie had together. Poker...playing the ponies...down at the country club...just being in each other’s company. He was really looking forward to tonight...like every Friday night...now she wanted that too. Maybe Ollie would understand that he didn’t want it this way. Maybe he’d know what to do about it. 

He didn’t realize that Sally had been yelling at him for the past five minutes to help her up. She seemed to be having a hard time rocking herself into a sitting position. He’d been there, done this before too. He sighed, gave a helpless look and got up off the ground. 

“Don’t you hear me yelling at you??” 

“Yes, Dear…” 

“Then get over here and get me up!!” 

After another fifteen minutes of pushing and pulling and rolling and shoving and hitting and beating and a black eye later...Stan and Sally had sorted themselves out and made their way up the walk to The Hardy Residence. Stan tried to dust off Sally’s dress and she swatted his hands away. He pressed the door buzzer. Sally handed him his hat. He put it on his head and pressed the buzzer again. 


End file.
